


Falling In The Black

by scarletladyy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Branding, F/F, Forced Bonding, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletladyy/pseuds/scarletladyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"To extinguish the free will is to strike the conscience with death, for both have but one and the same life."</i> (William Ellery Channing)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling In The Black

**Author's Note:**

> Written for reversathon 2012. Thank you to my beta.

People feared Bellatrix Lestrange, perhaps above even Voldemort. Not only was she evil, but she was insane too, so unlike other Death Eaters, she had little forethought of what she was doing. She just did whatever struck her fancy at the time.

Hermione had learnt this the hard way. Her body, a map of bruises and scars, provided evidence for Bellatrix's further journey into madness. Hermione was never healed unless absolutely necessary, Bellatrix liked to see her 'work in progress'.

It was an ordeal for everyone when Bellatrix went too far and Hermione had to be treated, else her wounds turn fatal. Bellatrix became even more unruly, mad that she hadn't been able to carry on; Snape sighed loudly and made his disapproval known; Voldemort chastised Bellatrix for not playing nicely and of course, Hermione herself had to fight for her life once again.

Sometimes, Hermione felt like giving up the fight altogether. When she was inches away from death, it was easier just to let go and be at peace. Then she heard Bellatrix's cackle and gathered all her strength; she would not allow this woman to kill her. Hermione would not give Bellatrix the satisfaction of giving up at _her_ hands. Not when there was a chance that some of her friends survived—and her parents were still alive in Australia.

There was _always_ hope. 

Hermione _had_ to believe that. If there was no hope, there was nothing to stop the light at the end of the tunnel from taking her away, and then Bellatrix would have won.

On days like today, when Bellatrix was in a particularly evil mood, thoughts of her friends were the only things that kept her sane. Hermione could feel Bellatrix's eyes on her as the house-elves dressed her for the evening. They were curious as to how she was going to react, which could only mean that there were exceptional horrors in store for Hermione tonight.

"Hurry up!" Bellatrix snapped loudly. She was anxious, pacing up and down the room while Hermione got ready. 

_It must be her night to entertain_ , Hermione thought, keeping her eyes on the ground. She did not wish to anger this woman. Once a week, the Death Eaters took turns hosting celebratory parties. They'd started after Voldemort had won the war, and just never stopped. Muggles, Mudbloods and Blood Traitors were all common forms of entertainment, and when it was Bellatrix's turn, Hermione was always included. She dreaded these nights the most, though she couldn't help but be thankful Bellatrix never told her in advance.

"We is done, Mistress." The house-elves bowed and stepped away from Hermione, then Disapparated when they were given the nod from Bellatrix. They would be glad to get out of there; Hermione only wished she were so lucky.

"Mudblood." Bellatrix stepped forward and Hermione looked into her eyes, as was expected when spoken to. "You had better behave for me tonight. If you try and defy me or anyone else, like your little stunt last time, I swear by Lord Voldemort that you will not live to see another day. And don't you dare think that this would be the easier option, for I would torture you longer than I have ever tortured you before. Oh! To just think of the excruciating agony you would be in!" Bellatrix gave a high pitched cackle, no doubt imagining the pain she could bring if not constrained by a need to keep Hermione alive.

Hermione gulped. There were many things she could imagine Bellatrix doing to her, and that was certainly one of them. She held little doubt that when the time came, Bellatrix had a very nasty death in store for her.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes," Hermione choked out. She tried desperately not to show her nerves, but considering the horrific events these people had already put her through, it was any wonder she was still standing. She'd learnt long ago that running just made things worse, and what was planned tonight was going to happen with or without Hermione's consent. If she did not run or fight back, she might make it out without too many bruises.

"Good. No matter what you see tonight, no matter what you're asked to do," said Bellatrix as she began pacing again. "You do it. No question. Are we clear?"

Hermione nodded. Bellatrix dipped into the pocket of her robes and brought out Hermione's lead. Refusing to be humiliated by it any longer, Hermione held her head high as Bellatrix attached it to the matching collar around her neck. What once brought her shame now bought her privileges; as long as she was in Bellatrix's care, no one would harm her—unless Bellatrix gave her blessing.

"Follow me," Bellatrix said as she tugged on the lead. Hermione felt grateful that she wasn't forced to crawl the entire way there, for her knees were still sore from the last time that had happened. Bellatrix's room was a long way from the dining hall, where the entertainment was held every Friday evening, so it was a humiliating walk that seemed to last forever. "We have a very special guest tonight. You're lucky enough to entertain the Dark Lord!"

If Hermione was supposed to be happy about that, she wasn't. That just meant things would probably be worse for her, more severe, for Bellatrix would try to impress her Master. Every Death Eater wanted to beat the other, and many deaths resulted from their desire to outdo each other. 

As they got closer and closer to the dining room, Hermione could hear screams echoing from somewhere nearby. It was probably the poor people who were to be brought on before her. They usually began with a Muggle or two being tortured and mercilessly killed. Hermione had had to learn to desensitise herself from it. At first, she would try to help them, but she was only laughed at and later punished severely. There was nothing she could do to help them, she realised that now. It was hard to come to terms with, especially when their screams pierced her eardrums and they begged for help.

"Knees," Bellatrix commanded when they reached their destination. Hermione obeyed and prepared to crawl after Bellatrix. She knew as soon as they entered that all eyes would be on them. Bellatrix was a powerful influence in their world. She was the Dark Lord's Leading Lady. Ignore her, defy her, argue with her, and you could find yourself not waking up the next morning.

The doors opened and Hermione kept her head held high as she was led into the dining hall. Everyone would be watching them, particularly her; people were still shocked that Bellatrix appeared to have 'tamed' her. Knowing they thought this upset her, but she knew that her survival was more important than what others, especially Death Eaters, thought of her. She crawled behind Bellatrix with a stoic look upon her face, for she never gave them cause to think she was in pain if she could help it.

The room was set up as usual: a raised dais stood at the center of the room, with a circle of chairs surrounding the empty floor space where the night's entertainment would take place. Although Hermione was to be a feature tonight, she wouldn't be the only one. She never was. She hated herself for thinking it, but this was a comfort as it meant she wasn't going to be abused for hours on end. The Muggles and other Mudbloods would suffer a far worse fate than her. They had no one to protect them; they had no one who wanted them alive after tonight. It made her sick, but she knew there was nothing she could do to help.

"Good evening, Bellatrix." Lord Voldemort sat upon the large throne in the centre of the dais, and Bellatrix took the smaller chair on his left hand side. On Voldemort's right sat another dangerous figure: Lucius Malfoy. Hermione knelt at Bellatrix's feet, the lead growing taut as she got as far away from both Voldemort and Malfoy as she could. If any of them noticed, they didn't comment on it.

"Good evening, my Lord. I am sorry if we are late." Bellatrix gave a strong tug upon Hermione's lead and her head was jerked slightly. It was a warning that if Bellatrix got in trouble with Voldemort, Hermione would get in further trouble with Bellatrix. It was a vicious cycle. "Lucius."

"Bellatrix," Malfoy replied, his tone cold. They nodded at each other and then turned to face the crowd. They were both constantly vying for their Lord's attentions, so relations between them were strained in spite of their family ties. Malfoy also didn't like the closeness that Bellatrix and Narcissa shared, as he felt it was 'inappropriate'. Hermione had unwittingly watched many of these arguments and they were not pleasant.

"You are just in time. I believe we are starting with a family of Muggles Rowle stumbled upon the other day."

Hermione didn't really believe that Rowle had _stumbled upon_ this family; more like he went out of his way to catch them.

"Excellent. I do hope they're more amusing than the families we've had in the past few weeks. Watching them simply plead for their lives is getting rather boring."

Lord Voldemort clicked his fingers. "Bring them in."

Until that moment, Hermione had been staring at the floor in front of her. The pattern of the wood was rather interesting when one had nothing else to focus on. Except, the moment the doors opened, the screaming started, and she couldn't help but look up with everyone else. They were a family of four: mum, dad and two teenage daughters. She instantly saw why Rowle picked this particular family. While the parents were bound and gagged, Avery and Dolohov held the girls, who appeared to be only sixteen or seventeen, loosely.

"On your knees! Now!" Rowle shouted at the parents and then kicked them to the floor. They protested loudly, but it did no good. He walked over to the girls and took the brunette's face in his hands. "Ready for a good time, girlie?"

The brunette spat straight into his face. With no eyes upon her, Hermione couldn't help but smirk. The girl had balls, yet it did not do her any favours. Rowle looked as though he were going to laugh, but at the last second, he took his hands away from her face and backhanded her hard. The sound echoed around the room.

"I'll see to it that you pay for that."

"Yeah?" The girl challenged. She did not look scared to the untrained eye, but Hermione—often in the girls position herself—saw her fear. She was putting on a front, but Hermione didn't blame her. "What could you possibly do that's worse than what you and your sick friends already have planned?"

"I really wouldn't test me." Rowle turned and walked away from her. He approached the dais and bowed down on one knee. "My Lord."

"Get on with it, Rowle." Lord Voldemort sounded tired and bored. "The main entertainment is waiting."

Hermione gulped; _she_ was the main entertainment, and if Voldemort was looking forward to her performance, it could only mean hell was in store. She watched, her eyes glued to the scene, as Rowle proceeded to rape and abuse the women in front of their parents. The brunette gave up a good fight, but the younger blonde was in too much shock to do anything but sob. Once Rowle, Avery and Dolohov were spent, they delighted in killing the parents as the girls lay on the floor, exhausted. The could fight no more. Of course, this meant the end for them, as they were no longer entertaining. At this point, it seemed they rather welcomed death.

Lord Voldemort nodded to Rowle; he had succeeded in being mildly impressive. "Bellatrix. I'm certain you can be more creative than that."

"I can, my Lord." Bellatrix stood and tugged on the lead. Hermione slowly crawled behind her, purposefully taking her time to make a point. "Sit. Stay," Bellatrix commanded, dropping Hermione's lead to the floor as she brought out her wand and conjured a small post into the floor. She then magically tied Hermione's lead around the post, ensuring Hermione could go nowhere. The last time Bellatrix had been foolish enough to trust her, Hermione had surprised her by jumping up and taking her wand. Though her rebellion hadn't lasted long, Bellatrix had never let her forget it. "Macnair."

Hermione's eyes shifted to the man who'd just stood. He was a frightening creature and known for his bloodthirsty love of violence. He'd only had a go at Hermione once before, and the results hadn't been pretty. She'd blacked out many times so her recollection of the night was hazy, but those memories she did have petrified her. Just seeing him move in her general direction made her tremble.

"You did as I requested?" Bellatrix placed out her right hand and Macnair dropped something into it. She smirked as she pocketed the object and Hermione felt sick. "Good. Where would you like me?"

"Kneel down, facing her," Macnair replied gruffly. Bellatrix did not exactly seem pleased at lowering herself to Hermione's level, but went along with it all the same. "Both of you hold your hands out, palms up. Grasp each other's hands."

Not wanting to suffer Bellatrix's, Macnair's and Lord Voldemort's wrath, Hermione obeyed. Bellatrix flinched when Hermione touched her flesh, as though it were burning her, and under any other circumstances Hermione was sure she would have been punished for it. Not now, though. Whatever they were doing, they weren't hurting her. Yet. In a way, it was more terrifying, for when they took off their clothes and exposed themselves, at least she knew what was coming. She had absolutely no idea what was going on right now and had no way to prepare herself for it.

Macnair positioned himself next to them and took out his wand, pointing it towards their joined hands. He muttered something under his breath that Hermione couldn't make out. Their hands began to glow and Hermione felt hot as a sensation—like pins prickling up her skin—travelled through her entire body. A little voice in the back of her mind told her to pull her hands away, to stop whatever was happening, but even if she wanted to, she couldn't. Her hands, unlike the rest of her trembling body, were still.

Macnair took a knife out his robes. Hermione recognised it as Bellatrix's dagger. How could she not? It was the same dagger that had carved 'Mudblood' into her arm repeatedly. This time, though, the dagger was placed on her hands. A small cut was made upon her right thumb, and then the same was done to Bellatrix. The yellow glow around their hands turned to a crimson red, and Macnair ordered them to press the cuts on their thumbs together.

_Blood magic_. Hermione had read many things over the years about blood magic and the dangerous uses of it, and though she wished she was strong enough to pull away, she found herself doing as ordered. Her blood and Bellatrix's blood mixed together, and Hermione felt a small satisfaction when she saw the disgusted look upon Bellatrix's face.

Macnair mumbled something and the magic tingled unbearably for a second and then exploded out of them, releasing them from each other. Bellatrix brought her thumb to her mouth and sucked the wound, so Hermione did the same. The metallic taste didn't exactly help her nausea, but at least it gave her something to do. 

"You may complete the ritual," Macnair said to Bellatrix. She smiled then, the awkwardness of the last few minutes forgotten. 

"Shoo." Bellatrix waved Macnair away with her hand, seemingly not caring that he looked rather disgruntled. "Spread your legs," Bellatrix commanded, and Hermione responded automatically. She obeyed before she even knew what she was doing. She frowned, which Bellatrix seemed to find highly amusing. "Oh yes, little one. You're never going to be able to disobey me again."

Suddenly unsettled, Hermione tried to move. She couldn't. She found, after a few seconds of trying, that she didn't even want to try anymore. _The blood magic! It has to be that... they've done something to me..._

"I thought you were supposed to smart." Bellatrix laughed and Hermione brought her eyes up to meet her captors. They were cold, but there was amusement glittering there somewhere. "Once the ritual has been completed, your every thought, action and desire will be to please me. No longer will you defy me, not even in your thoughts. Right now we are only half finished, so you're only receiving half the effects. Enjoy the next few moments, pet, for it will be the last time you ever remember what freedom feels like."

Hermione's eyes glazed over and her nausea flared up. The reality of the situation was bearing down upon her and the weight of it was heavy. She wanted to run, to scream, to fight, to do anything, but she couldn't. At least, right now, she could _think_ those things. Within the next half an hour, she would no longer have these thoughts. No more would she be her own person.

Hermione Granger, as the world knew her, would cease to exist. It was horrifying, truly, and Bellatrix's cackle as the realisation set into Hermione and tears ran down her face only made things worse. _She's getting off on this!_

"Let's not waste anymore time," Bellatrix said at once. She was serious again. She took her wand from her robe pocket and brought out the object Macnair had placed in her hand earlier. Seeing it closely for the first time, it was an emerald jewel in the shape of a 'B'. With magic, Bellatrix placed it upon Hermione's right thigh and then cast a spell.

The scream that emanated from Hermione's lungs as the jewel burnt into her skin, searing her flesh as the exact design copied itself onto her thigh, was deafening. It was over in a matter of seconds and the jewel fell to the floor once it was finished, but the pain lingered. Hermione chanced a look down at her reddened skin and saw the 'B' there, marking her as Bellatrix's.

_Is it done yet?_ Hermione thought, then realised if she was thinking such thoughts, it couldn't possibly be. There was still more to come.

"Lie down." 

Hermione did so and turned her face to the side as Bellatrix crawled over her body. She didn't want to look at the mad woman and try to work out what was coming next. This was not okay with Bellatrix. Hermione yelped as her hair was pulled sharply and she was forced to look into Bellatrix's face. She studied the older woman as she never had before, knowing this would be her last chance to make an observation of her own free will. In her youth, Bellatrix would probably have been quite pretty, but the madness of Azkaban had taken its toll on her, and the wrinkles under her eyes and at the sides of her mouth were proof of that.

Before Hermione could register anything else, Bellatrix leaned forward and kissed Hermione roughly. She struggled to breathe as Bellatrix attached her small mouth with her vicious and heavy tongue, then nipped at her lips with her teeth. It was a far cry from the gentle kisses she'd willingly received as a teenager. She wondered if she'd still retain her memories once the ritual was completed. Whether she'd know who she used to be, or whether she'd be forced to forget she ever had a life before she was captured.

Bellatrix pulled away from Hermione's mouth and whispered softly in her ear, "You'll remember. You'll live every single day ashamed of the girl you used to be. You'll go out of your way to please me, to find forgiveness for the bad things you've done. You'll never get it, though. Not because I simply can't forgive you, but because I really couldn't care less about the girl you were before."

_Agony_ , Hermione thought with increasing desperation. _It'll be agony._

"That's the point," Bellatrix replied, continuing to read her thoughts through a side-effect of the spell. Nothing would be her own, nothing would be private. Every inch of her—including her vast and intelligent mind—would belong to Bellatrix. Her _life_ would belong to Bellatrix. Right now, Hermione wished she'd given up the fight when she had the chance. She had no chance anymore; she had no choice anymore. Once the ritual was complete, there would be no way Bellatrix would let her out of her misery.

Bellatrix threw Hermione's head back and stood up. She walked round to Hermione's head and squatted down, lifting her skirts and pooling them around Hermione's face. Although it affected her breathing and she felt somewhat panicked, at least she could no longer see a hundred eyes upon her.

"Please me," Bellatrix instructed. This was not a new command by any means; Hermione had become quite skilled in the art of pleasing her captor. Before this, she thought she treasured knowledge in all its forms, but there really were some things she was best off not knowing. This, she was sure, was one of them. Reluctantly, her tongue left her mouth and caressed Bellatrix's folds. She teased Bellatrix's clit and then let her tongue penetrate her hole as much as possible, before bringing it back to her clit once more. All the while she wanted to pull away and refuse, not wanting this to be her last true act of her own free will, but the ritual, still only half complete, wouldn't let her.

Moans and gasps of pleasure escaped Bellatrix as Hermione continued to pleasure her, knowing the older woman was getting closer with every lick and suck she gave. When Bellatrix's thighs began quivering, Hermione prepared herself for Bellatrix to come. Just before she did, Bellatrix placed her wand upon Hermione's new brand and muttered something through her panting. 

Bellatrix came as she finished speaking and Hermione swallowed as much as she could. The second Bellatrix's juices hit the back of Hermione's throat, Hermione's brand began to burn. The pain became nearly unbearable and she screamed loudly, the sound muffled underneath Bellatrix.

"Swallow," Bellatrix commanded sharply. Hermione's mind was screaming at her not to obey, but the spell was far too powerful and she did so with little hesitation. She licked Bellatrix clean and saw light only briefly once Bellatrix had stood, for the burn seared into her skin painfully. 

The world went black.

*

"Well done, Bellatrix."

"Thank you, my Lord."

The voices roused Hermione into conciousness and she looked around fuzzily. She blinked a few times to get her vision back and saw her Mistress straight ahead of her, bowing down to her own Master. Immediately aware of the position she was in herself, Hermione forced herself to kneel. Her thigh ached as she did so, but she knew this was what her Mistress wanted.

"You have pleased me tonight," Lord Voldemort continued. "I admit I had my doubts, but you have beyond proved yourself. Creating that spell must have taken you months of planning. I cannot commend you highly enough." He turned to Malfoy, who was sat on his right. "We need more people like Bellatrix. Wouldn't you agree, Lucius?"

"Of course, my Lord."

Hermione felt annoyed that the insufferable Malfoy did not appreciate Bellatrix's efforts, nor seem to be impressed with them. Bellatrix deserved this man's respect, and yet he refused to give it. She glared at him, for it was the only thing she could do to please her Mistress.

"May I...?" Bellatrix started.

"Yes, yes." Lord Voldemort indicated for her to rise. She did, and Hermione inched closer to her. "It's obvious you are keen to have some fun, and after tonight, you deserve it."

"Thank you, my Lord." Bellatrix turned and headed for the exit, and Hermione followed behind her. A fleeting thought crossed her mind that she no longer had her lead attached, but she only smiled proudly at the realisation of what this meant: her Mistress trusted her.

Hermione knew she had many things to make up for, but with each passing day, she knew she could please Bellatrix more and more. There was no reason for Bellatrix to ever forgive the crimes Hermione had committed before, but Hermione could do her best and prove she was worth forgiveness.

She was Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, and there was no better use for her than pleasing her Mistress.


End file.
